Senior Year
by Modesto-Love-128898
Summary: "Sometimes high school can be amazing. And sometimes...it can be your own personal hell. I guess it just depends on how you look at it." Rating may change.


Senior Year

**A/N:** Hey guys! This is my NCIS fanfiction. It was originally to be told through different POVs, however, I decided I like this style better. For now, I'm thinking of making a series, the next fanfic in the series being "Freshman Year". It would be about the NCIS gang in college (separate or together – I'm not sure yet) and each story should be told from another character's POV. This story is told through the eyes of our beloved Ziva as she enters Washington D.C. as a new student and experiences the ups and downs of high school.

I really hope that you guys like this fic and continue to check out the others I have for Glee. I hope to branch out into some other categories. For now, I just really wanted to thank you guys for reading, commenting, and subscribing to me as an author on fanfiction. It really means a lot to me.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS nor am I affiliated with CBS nor any franchise, characters or storylines to which the producers and writers come up with.

I could feel eyes on me as I jogged up the steps of Naval High School. The air was cold compared to Tel Aviv and I could feel my cheeks growing red from the frigid air. What I wouldn't give for 103 degree heat right as an estimated low right now. As I reached for the handle of the entrance, I brushed fingers with a pale hand. Looking up, I made eye contact with a tall boy with brown buzzed hair and a computer bag strung around his shoulder.

"Sorry," he stuttered and opened the door for me.

"It is not your fault. I was in a brush, yes?"

"Rush," the boy stated as if he was unsure as to whether he should correct me or not. He let me walk through before him, and began to shuffle in the same direction as me.

"I apologize; my English is not that good."

"Did you just move here?"

"Yes. I actually have no clue where I am going."

"I can help you," he smiled awkwardly. "Just follow me."

"Thank you," I smiled.

"I'm Tim by the way." He extended his hand to me and I shook it as he continued to lead me down a long glass hallway. "Tim McGee."

"Ziva David." I smiled with a nod as we turned left and entered a giant gymnasium. There had to be a thousand people in this one room if possible. Tim put his arm around my shoulders and helped to lead me to the far side, the noise of voices growing louder.

"Here," he said when we stopped in front of what looked like a purple poster. "Look for your last name and it'

ll tell you who your homeroom teacher is. Wait here, I'm going to look at the list with my name on it."

When he walked away, I scanned the list in a desperate search. I could feel a group of people getting closer and closer, and I feared that I would be trampled because they failed to acknowledge that I was there. I spotted my name shortly before they arrived and memorized the number beside it. I saw one boy who had stunning light green eyes and dirty blond hair that looked as if his careless style was done on purpose. I was so amazed by his looks that I almost didn't hear Tim calling my name.

"Did you find it?" he asked.

"Yes." As I looked to him, I could feel the other boy's eyes on me now. "I'm number three-sixteen."

"Perfect so am I. We'll get our schedules there and wait for the first bell. They also hand out maps all the time, so you won't get too lost."

The 'homeroom' was very quiet as Tim and I entered. The other students didn't even bother to hide the fact that they were staring as we made our way to the back. It was almost unnerving – almost. (My father hadn't trained me to be a coward). As we took our seats the room continued to fill up section by section of friends greeting friends and then continuing to stare and whisper.

"Why do they keep looking at us?" I whispered to Tim.

"Well, you're new for one," he shrugged. "Plus, they're probably just trying to figure out why you would even talk to someone like me."

"Why would I not be?"

"For starters; you're a girl."

"Do you not have a girlfriend?"

"Well, I have a friend that's a girl; Abby. But she's not my girlfriend. She's dating some guy named Mikel."

"You don't like him, yes?"

"I'm not really sure. She met him at a concert two months ago and I just get a weird vibe off of him. As long as she's happy though, I guess I have nothing to worry about. Regardless, people are just generally shocked that someone besides Abby is willing to be seen in public with me."

I shook my head in disbelief. Tim was too nice to not have friends. "If you ask me, people are stupid."

"You're preaching to the choir," he sighed.

"What choir?" I asked, generally confused because I wasn't preaching nor was there a choir anywhere near us.

"It's just a saying," he chuckled. "It's basically a way of saying you already know something." He looked at the watch on his wrist and nodded to me. "The teacher should be here any minute now."

"What will happen then?"

"They'll hand out the schedules and we wait until the bell rings to leave. That's pretty much it."

As if on cue a rather plump woman walked in and ordered everyone to be silent. Almost immediately, every single conversation in the room ceased. I only stayed silent for the fact that I was so focused on how frigid Tim had turned once she stepped in.

"Good morning," the woman growled. "I am Miss Corpus. I can assure that everything you've heard about me is true. I am as you snot-nosed mini adults like to refer to as a bitch. Now if you have a problem with that, I suggest that you confront me; which I doubt that you will. I will call you up alphabetically by last name. If I say something wrong, deal with it because you are obviously able to tell I am calling you up if you can correct me."

As she called out names, I turned to Tim. He looked like he had seen a goat. Or was I ghost? "Is she really that bad?" I whispered.

"Worse," he gulped. "Last year she had a kid suspended for wearing a 'Make Love Not War' shirt."

"Is she even allowed to do that?"

"She can do whatever she wants. The woman is evil."

"David," Miss Corpus called. No one got up. "David. Ziva David."

"Oh, that's me," I said, rising out of my seat.

"Why didn't you come get it the first time I called you?" she demanded when I reached her desk. "Too busy using my time as a social hour perhaps."

"Actually, you just said my name wrong. You said day-vid. I'm dah-veed. I figured you were calling someone else." I shrugged my shoulders and took my schedule before turning back to my seat. I didn't have to look at the woman to know she was flaring her nostrils at me.

"Are you insane?" Tim whispered. "Didn't you hear her? Do you want to get in trouble?"

"No, yes and no," I answered. "I'm just not afraid of her."

"Maybe you are crazy."

I was the first one to arrive into Art. The room had three glass walls with about ten medium-sized, rectangular, black desks that could probably only sit two people in the back of the room and six on each of the opposite sides. The teacher's desk was close to the door. At least I thought it was the teacher's desk. The man who sat there had to be in his twenties and had a long ponytail tied at the nape of his neck.

"Name?" he asked, looking up from a paper he was furiously gliding his pencil across.

"Ziva David," I said. "Did I come in during the wrong period?"

"No, you're just early. You've got a good five minutes until the bell. Take a seat anywhere you would like."

I chose to sit at the table farthest to the left of the three that faced the bigger glass window.

"You must be new," he said as I put my stuff down.

"Yes," I nodded.

"Where were you before?"

"Tel Aviv."

"Israel?" he asked. "That's where my mother's from."

"Why'd she leave?"

"Her parents wanted the 'American Dream'. Why did you leave?"

"My father felt it would be safer if I stayed away from everything that's going on back home."

"I can understand that. So is it you and your mother?"

"No." I looked down at my hands that were folded on the desk.

Thankfully, I didn't have to answer because the bell rang and a rush of students came in, taking seats where they pleased. None of them sat by me though. I was almost sure I was going to be alone until a girl dressed in black with pigtails sat down across from me. I was thankful for a least some sort of company.

"Hi," she smiled. "I'm Abby."

"Ziva," I said with a smile.

"Now everyone," the teacher clapped, grasping our attention. "My name is Mr. Larson. I am new to the district, but, I hope that this year will be a good one. Just because I'm younger than most teachers doesn't mean I'm unaware of what goes on in the class. So, let that be a warning to you all. Now, the person sitting directly across from you will be your partner for the whole year, so get used to them now if you don't like them. Before we start anything, I have to take attendance, so raise your hand or give me a 'here' when I call your name."

"Do you know Tim?" Abby asked.

"Yeah, he showed me around earlier today. I've got gym with him next."

"Me too," she smiled.

"Oh, so you're the Abby he was talking about."

"What do you mean?"

"He was explaining to me how you were his only friend."

"That's because Timmy is anti-social," she giggled. "So I'm going to guess you're new here?"

"Is it that obvious?" I asked, raising my hand when my name was called.

"The cargo pants and the tank top kind of gave it away. Did you just move from some place hot?"

"You could say that," I chuckled. I had a feeling I was going to like things in America.


End file.
